


just a full tank away from freedom

by foxglovebrew



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxglovebrew/pseuds/foxglovebrew
Summary: Shiro surprises Keith. Keith does one better.“You’re—”“Early, I know,” Shiro says. “I drove back first thing, skipped the team brunch, but I just couldn’t—”Keith looks him up and down, eats him up, good-looking as a miracle. Classes at GU only ended today, he had brunch with his teammates from track—hence the suit, which their coach insists on—and a last wrap-up with his advisor to start talking about his capstone next year. Keith knows Shiro’s schedule better than his own and this doesn’t add up.Shiro ducks his head a little bit, dark bangs falling into his eyes, and Keith decides that it doesn’t matter.He pulls Shiro inside, grabbing him by his tie.





	just a full tank away from freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, S5, amirite? 
> 
> Only lightly proofread, so all mistakes are my own.

It’s three in the afternoon and the light is slanting just right, so that it comes golden through the trees. Even the sound of the doorbell comes a little soft, and Keith almost trips on his cat on the way to open it.

He swears under his breath at the ball of red fur, which looks up at him with wide green eyes and meows innocently like it didn’t just make an attempt on his life.

He can’t do anything more than scowl and bend to pat her on the head.

“Good kitty,” he says. After all, she’s following rule one of fighting opponents bigger than you: keep ‘em on their toes.

He makes it to the door, half-convinced it’s Thace having forgotten his keys.

It’s not.

Broad shoulders wrapped in a rumpled blue button-down, slacks creased to hell and back and a loose tie hanging from his neck. Chest heaving a little and black hair in disarray—Shiro smiles at him on the porch, golden like the light.

Keith can’t even be ashamed of the way his breath catches.

“You’re—”

“Early, I know,” Shiro says. “I drove back first thing, skipped the team brunch, but I just couldn’t—”

Keith looks him up and down, eats him up, good-looking as a miracle. Classes at GU only ended today, he had brunch with his teammates from track—hence the suit, which their coach insists on—and a last wrap-up with his advisor to start talking about his capstone next year. Keith knows Shiro’s schedule better than his own and this doesn’t add up.

Shiro ducks his head a little bit, dark bangs falling into his eyes, and Keith decides that it doesn’t matter.

He pulls Shiro inside, grabbing him by his tie. Shiro yells, startled, but he lets himself be pulled over the threshold. His smile, all flustered boy-next-door, can’t quite hide the mischievous glint in his eye. There’s a dimple that forms right at the left corner of his mouth when he’s up to no good.

“Surprise?” Shiro says, the door clicking shut behind him. He’s looming a little, in that impossibly sexy, infuriating way of his. Red—who attempted a daring escape only to be shoved gently back by Keith’s foot—meows at their feet.

Shiro is leaning close, biting his lip. It’s not even a move, the lip thing. Keith had pointed it out once and Shiro had gone bright red like he really hadn’t noticed he did it every time he looked at Keith’s mouth.

Every time he was thinking about kissing Keith, he’d admitted later.

“My parents are out,” Keith says.

He watches Shiro’s eyes go dark. Then, Keith bares his teeth in a mockery of a grin, turns around, and leaves Shiro listing after him.

He’s halfway up the stairs before he hears Shiro’s steps thundering up after him.

“Keith!” he yells, broken up by laughter. “Keith, c’mon.”

He didn’t even get a hello hug. A welcome back kiss. Shiro doesn’t say it, but Keith can hear it in the way Shiro yells his name again, and swipes out with his hand, almost catching him by the back of his pants.

Keith makes it all the way to his room before Shiro catches up with him, an arm around Keith’s waist like an iron band. Impossible to escape.

Keith laughs.

“Hey now,” Shiro says, warm breath puffing against Keith’s ear. He’s laughing too. “Wait just a minute.”

Keith squirms in his hold and Shiro loosens his arm enough to let him turn around. For all his iron grip, he lets himself be pushed easy, until he’s right up against Keith’s door.

Keith is sure as hell not gonna wait a minute. Shiro chased him up here and now he’s right where Keith wants him.

He wraps his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and half-pulls him down into a kiss. Shiro huffs against his mouth, smiles against Keith’s teeth on his bottom lip.

He hasn’t kissed Shiro in two months, three weeks, five days. He melts against Shiro’s body, like he’s been accumulating tension for all that time. All that time without Shiro’s warm hands on his hips and his hot, wet mouth against his. Shiro’s huffing breath against his cheek, and the vibration of Shiro’s moan on his tongue.

Keith’s hands are everywhere, but they keep drifting to Shiro’s big shoulders. Par for the course, and they look and feel especially good under the dress shirt, muscles shifting underneath the crisp cotton when Shiro’s hands slide up Keith’s back. One hand lands gentle on Keith’s jaw, Shiro’s thumb tracing the line of it while his fingers dive into Keith’s hair.

Keith is pressing his entire body insistently against Shiro’s—unapologetic and unsubtle about what he wants, and why shouldn’t he be?—when Shiro mumbles something against his mouth and turns his head to the side.

“Keith,” he rasps, pausing to gasp when Keith bites his jaw. He huffs a breathy laugh. “Easy, tiger.”

Keith pulls back, a little put out, and Shiro looks down at him with a smile.

“ _What?_ ” Keith asks.

“Just—” Shiro says, and his other hand comes up to Keith’s other cheek. He cradles Keith’s face and holds him still, his smile going wide and dimpled. “Just let me look at you for a second.”

Keith sighs, frowning up at him.

“Impatient,” Shiro says, and his smile doesn’t falter at all. His thumb brushes Keith’s cheekbone, down to press against his bottom lip. “You shouldn’t pout like that.”

“No?” Keith says, and it takes everything in him not to bite at Shiro’s thumb.

“No,” Shiro replies. He doesn’t say anything else, but he bites his own lip. And Keith knows what that means.

Shiro doesn’t kiss him, though. He just looks at Keith for a long moment, his smile receding, turning softer.

“Hi,” Shiro says. “I’m home.”

Keith’s throat closes up all at once, and the need under his skin becomes a different kind of desperate.

Shiro still doesn’t kiss him. He leans down to press his forehead against Keith’s hairline, and breathes in deep. Keith doubts he smells like anything more than shampoo, sweat, and possibly cat, but he can feel Shiro smile.

“Shiro,” he says, because somehow this is more overwhelming than anything else.

“Alright,” Shiro says, and finally kisses him. On his forehead. Keith glares at him and Shiro laughs. “Alright, okay.”

And _finally_ he kisses Keith—properly, open-mouthed and hard, one hand reeling him in by his hips, the other clenched in Keith’s hair. Zero to sixty, don’t pass go, don’t wait to build it up nice and slow and coaxing.

Keith groans against the kiss, relief sweeping through him, the press of Shiro’s hard body lighting up his blood.

“That it?” Shiro pants, mouth still pressed against Keith’s, so he can feel the sweep of his lips, his bared teeth. “That what you want?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Keith hisses, and pulls Shiro closer by his neck, leading him backwards and away from the door. Shiro’s hand has pointedly drifted down and taken a handful of Keith’s ass, not that Keith’s complaining. Shiro lets himself be pulled, sweet and good-natured in contrast to how ruthlessly he’s still kissing Keith.

Full of contradictions, Takashi Shirogane.

Keith feels the backs of his knees bump against his bed, and he lands sitting on a pile of dirty laundry. He barely spares a thought for being embarrassed about it—Shiro’s seen his room is worse states for sure—and only takes the time to sweep it off the bed and onto the floor. Shiro laughs, still standing above him.

Keith smiles, and hooks his fingers in Shiro’s belt loops, drawing him closer while he scoots back on the bed. Shiro has no choice but to kneel on the bed and follow.

He does take this chance to bend down and start untying Keith’s sweatpants. A show of initiative that Keith thoroughly approves of, which he makes known by humming low in his throat and getting his hands in Shiro’s hair.

“Shirt off,” he says, even as he shimmies out of sweatpants and briefs all at once.

Shiro doesn’t seem to register the words, his eyes a little glazed as he looks down at Keith, suddenly bared and hard and still wearing the red tee he sleeps in. His hands are warm and wide on Keith’s thighs, running up the backs in an almost unconscious gesture. He’s halfway bent down between Keith’s legs already, his target painfully obvious.

“Shiro,” Keith snaps. Shiro looks up, and his eyes are dark and hot, and they make Keith’s breath speed up.

Keith repeats, “Shirt off.” Firm.

“Bossy,” Shiro says, licking his lips, that mischievous dimple flashing at the corner of his mouth.

“You like it,” Keith says, and lies back, his arms up around his ears, hands held loosely over his head. He smiles at the sharp, pained sound Shiro makes.

“Bossy and spoiled,” Shiro says, though a smile still tugs at his mouth as he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt.

Really, he should be thanking Keith. He doesn’t want jizz on his nice dress shirt. And Keith, well—he’s congratulating himself.

Once he’s done, Shiro stands there for a beat, looking up through his dark bangs a little bashfully—as if he doesn’t look good enough to eat, shirtless and still in his slacks.

“Good,” Keith says, and licks his lips. His mouth is dry. “Now come here.”

Shiro does, though he doesn’t bend to kiss Keith’s mouth like Keith had half-intended. Instead, he bites into Keith’s inner thigh, making him jerk and let out a sharp, whining sound. From where he is, he has a great view of Shiro’s shoulders between his knees, and his back shifting as Shiro bites more kisses up his leg, up to where Keith wants him.

Keith takes a moment to congratulate himself again.

Then Shiro is licking up his length and humming as he takes Keith’s cock in his mouth, and it’s all a haze from there. Heat and Shiro’s mouth coming down around him, and the sharp moans in the back of Shiro’s throat. Keith isn’t quiet either—the house is empty, there is no reason not to let Shiro know how well he’s doing, how good he is. Shiro thrives under praise.

His hands still knead at Keith’s thighs, until one quests out and grabs for Keith’s hand. Keith reaches back, threading their fingers together, holds onto them like a tether as he thrashes under Shiro’s hold. His other hand is anchored in Shiro’s hair, as his hips rock up into Shiro’s mouth.

He comes too soon. He can’t be blamed—it’s been a while, and Shiro’s dark eyes look up at him from between his legs and dare him to. Keith doesn’t have time to warn, but his eyes roll back and his neck arches, and he knows Shiro knows him, knows the signs. He takes it all in stride.

Keith, still blissed out and trembling through the aftershocks, has enough presence of mind to open up his arms and let Shiro climb up into them. He sighs, a small satisfied noise in contrast with the way Shiro latches onto his neck, still frantic.

“Keith,” Shiro says, low and hoarse in that post-blowjob way Keith likes. “ _Keith.”_

Keith hums, and kisses Shiro’s temple. “Yeah,” he says. “Come on.”

It’s painfully undescriptive, but he can’t be expected to be _coherent_ , can he? Still, he fumbles with shaky fingers for Shiro’s belt and fly, clumsy and only impeded by Shiro’s attempts to help.

Shiro makes a sharp, frustrated noise, only muffled by Keith’s mouth, which comes to silence him. It’s a sloppy kiss, lazy on Keith’s end, desperate on Shiro’s.

And so, so good.

Shiro moans. Keith smiles into the kiss. He’s got what he was looking for after all. His hand slides along Shiro’s cock, hot and hard under his fingers, and Shiro’s hand wraps around his fingers in turn. They jerk him together like that, fast, like he likes. Their kiss has devolved into a formless, open-mouthed, panting thing.

“Like that?” Keith says. “What do you want?”

Shiro is past words, hips hitching to meet their hands, his free hand roaming up under Keith’s shirt, pushing it up towards his armpits.

“Just this—I can’t—” he pants, then bites his lip. “I’m gonna—”

Keith can read his signs too, the way his head drops down, his fingers seizing, the moan caught at the back of throat. He comes on Keith’s chest, narrowly avoiding splattering his shirt.

He hangs there, trembling, trying to hold himself up from Keith’s body. Careful not to crush him—the idiot. Like Keith wouldn’t get crushed and say thank you.

He guides Shiro sideways, to lie on the bed next to him. Keith stays on his back, recuperating. Breath slowing in the aftermath, legs still thrown out. He’ll regain normal motor function in a sec. Soon. Probably.

Shiro looks down at him and groans.

“The way you look right now,” he says, and hides his face into the pillow.

Keith laughs, breaking the mood. He thinks he probably looks like a mess and a half, but he sees what the appeal to Shiro might be—Keith half-naked and spread out, his shirt pushed all the way up, Shiro’s come on his belly.

“Tough,” he says, as he reaches out for the box of tissues by the bed. “Ugh. Good thing you swallowed.”

Only half of Shiro’s face is visible, but Keith can see the smile lines by his mouth as he huffs a laugh into the pillow. “Glad to be of service.”

 Keith pulls his shirt back down, but makes no further attempts to cover up his nudity. Instead, he rolls over so he’s on his side, facing Shiro.

Shiro pulls his face out of the pillow and adjusts so his hair isn’t in his eyes. Keith scoots closer, a clear suggestion, and Shiro wraps his arm around him promptly. His fingers slide up the back of Keith’s arm, soft as anything, and come to rest on his cheek, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. Toying with a stray tuft of black hair.

Keith knows his face is doing something sappy and ridiculous, but Shiro’s looking right back, and his eyes are shining like stars.

“Welcome home,” Keith whispers, entirely too late.

Shiro doesn’t seem to think so. He lights up, his smile slow and sweet as honey, his thumb still tracing Keith’s ear, the top of his cheek bone, the line of his jaw, and back again.

Keith scoots a little closer. “You can look at me all you want now.”

Shiro laughs. “Thanks, baby.”

Keith tries not to preen too visibly at the endearment, though even after all these months it gives him a little thrill. How casual Shiro is with his affection—how he always was, even before, when they were just friends and Keith trailed behind him like a puppy.

Though it was hard to feel _too_ pathetic when Shiro was so vocally affectionate, when he didn’t miss a chance to put his hands on Keith. Even if Keith thought, at the time, that it was just how Shiro was. He was _friendly._ Nice.

“No, I definitely just wanted to touch you,” Shiro had said, only a month ago, over Skype. His eyes had softened, annoyingly grainy in the video feed. “Still do. If you were here, Keith—”

If Keith had been there they could have done all sorts of things.

Speaking of which.

“I have something to tell you,” Keith says, and it comes out oddly hushed.

Shiro’s still looking at him with that maddening, adoring look in his eye, like Keith hung the stars. Which is still a little unbelievable, but Keith isn’t going to object.

Keith feels the dimple at the corner of Shiro’s mouth under the pad of his thumb, the warm indent relaxing when Shiro’s smile subsides.

“What is it?” Shiro asks.

Keith steels himself, drawing a quick breath and pulling away from the bed. He doesn’t look back at Shiro’s bewildered expression, and feels suddenly self-conscious, crossing the room without pants or underwear on, and rooting through the mess of papers on his desk.

Shiro, behind him, doesn’t say anything.

The envelope is thick, unmistakable. Thace had handed it to him with a knowing smile only a week ago, and Keith had known immediately what it was.

Shiro knows, too. Keith hands it to him and perches on the bed again, pulling his shirt down over his hips. A little self-conscious.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, holding the envelope like it’s a live bomb. His thumb traces the GU crest at the top corner of it. Keith’s name and address peeking through the window like a reassurance.

_This is for you._

“Open it,” Keith says, watching Shiro’s eyes go wide as his fingers scramble for the torn flap. Keith had attacked it with keys in a frenzy, and it looks like it’s been mauled.

Shiro pulls out the first sheet, a letter. His eyes scan the lines of text and his breath goes out of him all at once, making his shoulders sag.

“ _Mr. Kogane_ ,” he reads. “ _We’re delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the Garrison University class of 2022._ ”

He lowers the letter and _finally_ his excitement seems to catch up with him, because a radiant smile widens on his lips, pulling at his cheeks and making his dimples bloom.

“ _Keith,_ ” he says again, hushed and overjoyed. Keith can’t help but smile back, helpless, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Surprise?” he says. He doesn’t have time to say anything else, because he finds himself swept up into Shiro’s arms and on his lap. He’d like to say he makes a dignified noise of surprise, but it’s more of a squawk, which devolves into laughter. Shiro’s shoulders are shaking under his hands, and Keith realizes he’s laughing too.

He pulls back and gets his hands on Shiro’s face, framing his jaw. Shiro’s eyes glitter, looking up at him with that stupid besotted look.

“You did it,” Shiro says.

_I did it,_ Keith thinks, and his breath leaves him.

“I have to be in dorms my first year,” he says, when he finally finds his voice again. “But I was thinking I could come over on the weekends. If that’s okay.”

The way Shiro’s face lights up is blinding.

“Whenever you want,” he whispers, close enough to kiss. He’s biting his lip. “ _Keith._ ”

They’re kissing again, Keith’s hands still on Shiro’s face, tracing the line of his strong jaw. He doesn’t mind admitting it was one of the first things that had caught his eye about Shiro. That and his arms. And his smile. And his eyes.

Well. Shiro’s _a lot._

Shiro lies back down, pulling Keith back against him, so he’s sprawled across his chest. Keith holds himself up on his elbows to look down at Shiro, though he makes a point to rest all of his weight down on him.

“Are you even slightly winded?” Keith says, between feather-light kisses.

“Mmmmh, why should I be?” Shiro says, though his smile turns mischievous. “You weigh hardly anything.”

“Fuck you,” Keith says, through a laugh. “See if I come visit you next semester.”

Shiro frowns, a fake pout on his lip that Keith wants to bite. Before he can, he finds himself rolled onto his back, Shiro’s weight on him _._ And yeah, that’s. That’s something alright.

Keith pulls him in by his neck and brings his other hand down to shove Shiro’s pants all the way off. Shiro kisses him again, and Keith runs his tongue on the dip of his dimple, which he traced earlier. He can’t help a loud groan when Shiro grinds down against him.

Yeah, Keith thinks, they could go again.

They don’t get chance to, because there’s a pointed knock on the door.

“Keith,” comes Ulaz’s voice from the other side. “I’m not coming in, but I sure hope it’s Shiro in there with you.”

Keith can feel his face catch fire.

Of all the foster parents he’s had, Thace and Ulaz are definitely the pair he’s been most comfortable with. That doesn’t mean he _ever_ wants them to hear him make noises like the one he just made. After four years with them, two since his adoption, it’s almost easy to think of them as his dads—which only makes this entire situation _worse._

“Good afternoon, sir,” Shiro says, from where he is. Which is on top of Keith, still shirtless, with his dick out. Keith could die.

“Oh, good,” Ulaz says, muffled by the door. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, sir,” says Shiro, who still hasn’t moved. Keith’s face is now hidden under his arm.

“Can you give us a couple of minutes, Ulaz?” Keith yells. Anything to stop his naked boyfriend and his dad from having this conversation through a closed door.

He swats Shiro’s arm as soon as he hears Ulaz’s steps recede down the stairs.

Shiro laughs and hides his face in his neck, nosing up the line of it to Keith’s jaw.

“What did I do?” Shiro says, a smile in his voice. “I didn’t do anything.”

A kiss, placed right behind Keith’s ear.

“Don’t try it,” Keith says, though his hand still traces up Shiro’s spine, belying his words. “We need to get dressed.”

“You’re gonna need to let me go, then,” Shiro says, his mouth still busy with Keith’s neck.

Keith keeps himself from saying something completely ridiculous, like ‘ _Never._ ’

He thinks briefly, wildly, about what his younger self would have thought if he could have known this was coming. If he could have known when he was first held back a year, when he'd first come to live with Thace and Ulaz, sick with worry and mistrust. When he'd first met Shiro, and in the long months of pining thereafter. That he'd be here now, with adoptive parents he trusts, a man he loves in his arms, the future ahead of him—for once not something to fear.

He says, into Shiro’s hair, “In a minute.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written way before S5 aired, and it's yet again me pandering to my own wish for uncomplicated fluff. This is a present day Earth AU where there is no intergalactic war. If I went into whether there are or aren't aliens we'd be here all day. Ages are 18 and 21 if we still need that kind of thing spelled out.
> 
> (I did start looking at when college acceptance letters would come as compared to terms ending, as compared to high school graduations, but then I realised... it's not that deep).
> 
> Title from Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy. Mania is literally full of Sheith songs and I'm glad we all agree.


End file.
